 A poem titled, Me and Not You. Oh, how I wish the spears came to me instead of the sun of Ali. I wish the arrows pierced my flesh and the horses trampled my chest. Let my body be left on the sands. Let them kill me and cut off my hands. Let my body be left all alone with no head and no shroud and no stone. How I wish it was me and not you. Oh, how I wish what they did was untrue. How I wish it was me, they left dead. And how I wish they would hurt me instead. Instead, I am left with the pain of what they did to you, O Hussain. My eyes now accustomed to tears over you, how I've wept through the years. My heart left no place to rest, enduring with patience my test. Sleep is of no use to my eyes, even then over you they do cry. I think of your mother and fall, to the air al-Hujjah I'd crawl. My soul is now eager to see the sun of Zahra and Ali. My hand is now yearning to pay allegiance to he who will say, for my mother and her sons who were slain, vengeance for you, O Hussain.